


No One Wins

by Tomstinkerbell



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Angst, Devastating Breakup, F/M, Feels, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short, pretty angsty drabble where Tom has reached the end of his rope about his love’s lack of self-worth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Wins

**Author's Note:**

> Not a particularly flattering portrayal of Tom.
> 
> You might want to skip this.
> 
>  
> 
> [source](http://tomhiddleston.us/gallery/displayimage.php?pid=21211&fullsize=1)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/121062059@N03/22618545670/in/dateposted-public/)

"All right,” he sighed angrily. “You win."

The words were spoken much too quietly, considering how viciously they ravaged my world.

He was looking down, and I had no idea at that point how he was going to devastate me even further with his next words, for which the bastard then caught my eye where I stood several feet from him, arms crossed defensively over my breasts, lips trembling, eyes awash with unshed tears, saying, with a hard look I'd never seen on his face before, "You're too dumb. You're much too fat and ugly. Plus you're way too undereducated for me. What _could_ I have been thinking to have wanted to be with you?” He paused a beat before continuing, “Isn't that what you'd feel more comfortable hearing from me than declarations of my undying love?"

The sarcasm with which they were delivered didn't serve to dull their sharpness in the least. 

And then he walked right past me, not even brushing me with his broad shoulder but rather moving deliberately _around_ me so that we didn't touch in any way at all.

When he got to the door, he turned around, and I - the idiot, glutton for punishment that I am - turned to look at him, to let him drive the knife he was wielding so expertly just a little deeper into me. I was, after all, still standing - if with big teardrops racing down my cheeks.

Not that they had any effect on him at all that I could see.

Those usually sensuous, full lips in a tight, white line, he ended me - and us at the same time - with in a devastating calm that was the exact opposite of what I was feeling.

"If you're truly that fragile, then perhaps it's better that we break it off now."

Turning away again, he walked unhesitatingly out the door, leaving only the wreckage of what had been - what I thought we had had - in his wake.


End file.
